Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(102)

Achilles’s posture was different—crueler than normal. Even from afar, his countenance was harsh.

Patro turned his head, wrenching himself violently away from Achilles, like it physically pained him to leave his side.

Staggering away, tripping over sand and wincing as blood poured from his wound, Patro looked distraught.

Achilles reached to help him, but Patro batted him away and righted himself.

Patro limped away.

Achilles watched him go—his gaze lasered on Patro’s severed tendon—eyes flashing.

Cool wetness splattered across my face.

Hisssssssss.

The network of electricity sputtered above the arena.

I tipped my head back—droplets peppered my skin—the gray sky opened up, drenching all of us in a deluge. Sparks popped in the air, but the force field held.

The gate lifted up, but Achilles was still watching Patro retreat.

Rain fell faster, pouring down Achilles’s face like tears. The muzzle was still on, and for some reason, he wasn’t removing it.

Menacing growls echoed as four Nemean wolves slunk out on the far side of the arena. Their coats were a shiny black and each of them was Nero’s size or bigger.

It was just like Patro’s round.

Nero spun and growled at the incoming threat, his teeth bared as he crouched low in the rain.

Achilles still didn’t turn around.

He was watching where Patro had disappeared.

The wolves sprinted, puddles splashing beneath their feet, as they headed straight for Achilles’s exposed back.

“What’s he doing?” Drex shouted.

The crowd screamed with warning.

Rain pounded down.

The four mammoth wolves pounced—long yellow fangs bared, ears flattened to their skulls—they soared through the rain, straight toward Achilles.

I screamed with the crowd.

Achilles turned.

He dodged in a blur.

Two of the wolves overshot him, and Nero clashed with the third, rolling in the wet sand.

Chilling growls echoed as the two beasts fought.

Achilles didn’t pause to watch.

Moving with shocking speed, he drove his kitchen knife straight through the fourth wolf’s neck, then he slammed the creature down into a puddle with his other hand.

Blood and water sprayed across his muzzle.

A few feet away, Nero ripped out the neck of the wolf fighting beneath him.

The stadium cheered, but there was no time to celebrate.

The remaining two wolves were already back on their feet, sprinting toward Achilles—one crouched low in front of the other, protecting its neck.

Achilles watched them approach, the knife spinning between his fingers. Nero bared his teeth as he stood over the defeated wolf.

Neither man nor protector moved.

They waited.

Yet again, the two beasts leapt straight at them—Achilles shot up into the air, kicking one at Nero as he grabbed the other with his bare hands.

Crack. The wolf fell limp beside Achilles as he landed in the sand. Its neck was snapped.

Nero once again rolled through the sand, teeth snapping, as he fought the last one.

Achilles stalked over, and quicker than my eye could follow, he slammed his tiny knife straight through the last wolf’s skull.

Nero got to his feet and howled.

Achilles stood heaving beside him, leather concealing his face.

The fight had barely lasted a few minutes.

Stones vibrated as the stadium leapt to its feet. “Take off the muzzle … take off the muzzle … take off the muzzle!”

Nyx hissed in unison as she slithered around my stomach.

I gave Drex an incredulous look as he also joined the chant.

“What?” he shouted over the screams. “I’m intrigued.”

Rain roared as it fell harder, painting the world dark.

The stomps increased. “Take off the muzzle … take off the muzzle … take off the muzzle!”

Again, the trap door slowly lifted—the second round had begun.

Tall pale skin flashed as four blond men walked out, each wearing an oversized brown garment that was much too large for their lithe frames.

They walked out onto the blood-splattered sand.

They stood silent and soaking wet as they watched Achilles with inscrutable expressions. Something was off about them—none of them have a weapon.

Twenty feet of sand, and four dead wolves, stretched between them.

Nero backed up, his tail tucked between his legs, and Achilles moved to stand in front of him protectively.

The stadium went quiet as murmurs of confusion spread.

Charlie stiffened beside me, but I couldn’t see his face, his head still resting on my shoulder.

I turned to Drex and asked, “Who are they?” Rain sputtered off my lips.

“No idea.”

Kharon swore violently.

Drex and I shared a glance of confusion.

A hair-raising rumble echoed through the coliseum.

Shadows crawled across their four faces, skin rolling, their pale chests widening, layers and layers of muscles bulking onto their figures as they grew in height.

Their faces changed—features morphed—distending and warping.

Thick, curved horns grew out from their shaggy heads as they tipped their heads back and roared.

Sparta screamed.

The Chthonic leaders had all jumped to their feet. Persephone was the only one who remained sitting. She glanced back at me, her eyes full of pity.